A Study in Reason

Prologue

The doorbell rang at one pm that day. There had been nothing interesting on offer for over a week now and the living room wall at 221B Baker Street was going to need re-plastering. Again.

'Ah!' exclaimed Sherlock Holmes, looking out of his living room window. 'We have a client, John!'

John Watson looked up from his newspaper long enough to nod.

'Hmm. Good,' he nodded before trying to hide his sigh of relief by rustling his paper.

'Sherlock, we've got a young lady to see you,' Mrs Hudson came tottering up the stairs. 'You boys should really answer your own door.' Sherlock ignored her but John winced at the comment.

'Sorry, Mrs Hudson,' he apologised.

'No problem, dear. I was just going out anyway,' Mrs Hudson replied before leaving the flat and heading down the stairs. Now, both residents' attention was directed to the stranger in the room.

'Please, sit,' John offered, indicating the chair that was reserved for occasions such as this.

'Thank you,' the woman said, sitting in the offered chair.

'Why are you here?' Sherlock asked, steepling his fingers. The young woman raised an eyebrow at him.

'I would have thought that was obvious, Mr Holmes. I have a case for you,' she replied, not at all intimidated by the ego in the room.

'Well? Go on then,' Sherlock insisted, turning his attention back to his living room and away from the woman.

'On one condition,' the stranger stated, with her index finger in the air. This caught Sherlock's attention. 'I come along. I want to be part of this investigation, not just the instigator.' Now both of Sherlock's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He couldn't decide weather to be intrigued or annoyed by this particular woman.

'And what makes you think I would accept such an... Unprecedented offer?' he asked, keeping his expression and intonation neutral. The woman grinned and leaned forward slightly in the chair.

'Because you are so bored,' she replied.

'What gave me away?' Sherlock asked casually, though his curiosity was piqued. The woman rolled her eyes.

'I don't know if it was the way your eyes can't rest on a single thing in the room for more that a second, which would either suggest you were trying to avoid someone's gaze or you were bored,' she told the detective. 'Then there's that incessant drumming you're doing on the armrest with your fingers. That either suggests nervousness or boredom.' Sherlock looked down at his left hand, which was the one between him and his client. It was still. The woman rolled her eyes. 'Not that hand. The other one!'

The almost inaudible drumming stopped.

This made the stranger smile and she continued. 'Again, boredom is the common denominator and your friend isn't showing any signs of nervousness so either it's something he doesn't know about, or boredom. I'm going to go with the latter.'

'Not many people would spot things like that,' Sherlock mused quietly.

'Yeah, well, I got good at my job by noticing things like that,' the client replied. Then, by way of introducing herself, she said, 'Clara Lane, investigative journalist.'

Suddenly, Sherlock wasn't so keen on letting Miss Lane come along.

'Okay... Miss Lane-'

'Clara, please,' she requested.

'Clara. What case do you have for us?'

'Where's my guarantee?' Clara asked.

Sherlock smirked. 'Shall we say that if I take the case, you can come with us.'

Understanding that was the best she would get, Clara nodded. 'Double homicide and suicide happened fourteen years ago in a locked room. Case was closed within two days but I think they missed something.'

'Why come to me?' Sherlock asked. 'Why not tell the police you have new evidence?'

'Because you're better than the police,' she replied, almost too easily. 'They already screwed up this case once.' Sherlock cocked his head to the side slightly as a sign of agreement.

'Okay, what did they miss?' Sherlock asked.

'They didn't do a ballistics report. Those days, under the circumstances, maybe they thought they didn't need to. But, I don't think the bullets in the brains of the homocide victims matched the gun in the hand of the suicide.'

'And how did you come to this conclusion?'

'The autopsy report said that the bullets removed from the brains of the two homocide victims were a different calibre to the handgun found in the hand of the suicide. It wasn't even from the same type of firearm.'

'Interesting. Were there any other firearms found on the scene?'

'No. Just the one pistol.'

Sherlock breathed in deeply, a satisfied smirk on his face.

'Miss Lane,' he announced. 'You just might have yourself a deal.'